


Lost Emotions and The End of a Life

by Roannieeeee



Series: One Shots by Roannieeeee [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alexithymia, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is lost, Implied/Referenced Suicide, MCD, Numbness, PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH SUICIDE, Sad Ending, Suicide, or implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roannieeeee/pseuds/Roannieeeee
Summary: Harry didn't know. He didn't particularly care either.PS. THERE IS SUICIDE IN THIS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS.if you're not comfortable, please find another story to read.
Series: One Shots by Roannieeeee [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886080
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Lost Emotions and The End of a Life

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling angsty so I wrote angst. I have my second to last final on Friday, but two exams back to back left me with mush for brains that only had stories to think about. So, I wrote this. I do hope you like it.  
> Plus, my final psych class was talking about apathy vs alexithymia. 
> 
> Apathy is, by psychological definition, the absence of emotion and the state of indifference or unaffectedness. 
> 
> Alexithymia, by psychological definition, is the inability to describe or express emotions. 
> 
> PS. I own nothing. 
> 
> Again. I will put another warning. This has suicide, so please turn back now if you're not comfortable of reading it. 
> 
> bold is onomatopoeic(yes, that is a word) words

**Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.** ****

The sound of rainwater falling and the smell of petrichor surrounded him. It was chilly, yet he felt nothing as he walked around barefooted. Of course it was chilly, it was the last of August after all, and the autumnal season had just begun. Walking around the grounds of the castle he once called his home, Harry Potter couldn’t help but wonder how things had turned into the state they are now. 

**Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.**

What state did he mean exactly? Harry didn’t even know. Did he mean himself? The apathy? Or was it alexithymia? He thought it was possibly just numbness or disconnection. It was just after the war after all, and it was completely understandable why he was so...monotone. 

But 15 years had passed since then and he was  **_still_ ** feeling the same. Fifteen years after the war, 32 year-old Harry James Potter was feeling the same numbness. 

Was it numbness? Alexithymia? Possibly apathy? No, definitely apathy.

**Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.**

Hadn’t he asked himself this already? 

Harry didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care either. 

No, Harry James Potter didn’t care. Or was it the lack of feeling the need to care? Anyway, he preferred this. The peace that comes with the lack of emotions. 

**Pitter-patter, Pitter-patter, whoosh, pitter-patter, whoosh**

Was it peace? Harry tilted his head as he pondered on the question. The rain was still falling around him, but instead of the heavy downpour, it was now a soft trickling. There were no students yet, and the teachers hadn’t noticed that he was in the castle. Well, of course they wouldn’t. They were down in Hogsmeade. 

The winter wind had preceded the clouds that brought the snow in the Scottish Highlands. Did he shiver?If he did, he didn’t notice. Peace. Harry had remembered wishing for it when he was a boy, but the reason, he couldn’t exactly recall. Was this peace? Living with apathy? It probably was not the same peace his younger self had hoped for, but Harry thought that it didn’t matter. No one bothered him anymore, and he’s more than happy to accept that. 

**Drip, drop, whoosh, drip, drop, whoosh.**

The rainfall had slowed even more, and the wind picked up more. He continued to walk around, ignoring the slow build of mud on his feet. 

**Clip, clop, clip, clop.**

The sound of hooves caught his attention, and Harry recognised the blond hair of his only centaur friend, Firenze. 

“Hello, Mr. Potter.” 

“Hello, Firenze. How may I help you?” 

“Oh, no. I’m merely here to say goodbye.” 

Harry blinked, and Firenze saw how the once bright green eyes had lost its spark. 

“Ah, so you know. How, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“The stars had slightly lost the glow that it received when you were born.” 

Harry merely nodded, and bowed his head in thanks to Firenze before walking away slowly. Firenze bowed behind him, not that Harry saw it, and left, his heart silently breaking for the only male human his tribe has accepted. 

**Drip, drop, drip, whoosh, rustle.**

Taking a deep breath, the scent of petrichor was surrounding him, filling his lungs. 

As he walked closer towards the middle of the forest, Harry smiled softly. His end was coming. As if hearing his thoughts, his sole house elf, an old little thing named Koby, popped into his visual range. 

And Koby truly was an old thing. At the age of 200, the only thing keeping him alive was Harry’s magic. Harry smiled at the small thing, a smile that looked fond. Was he fond? Maybe. 

If it was, maybe Harry wasn’t so apathetic after all.

“Master Harry?” 

“Hello, Koby. Are you sure you do not wish to bond with another family?” 

“No, Master Harry. I is very olds, and I wishes to be with my mate.” Koby said, bowing at Harry, his long, floppy ears reaching the ground and scraping the mud. 

“Very well. Please stay in Gringotts. And do send my thanks and final regards to Ragnok.” Harry said, petting the small grey tuft of hair on top of Koby’s head. 

With a pop, Koby disappeared and reappeared within the halls of Gringotts, where all house elves waited for their end. 

Ragnok just bowed solemnly. Harry had been the only human that had shown the goblin horde the respect that the Wizarding world had not given them. 

**Drip, drop, whoosh, drip, drop.**

The middle of the forest was a clearing, with a soft bed of flowers at the very centre. 

Lilies, how fitting. 

Taking out his wand, Harry laid on the bed of lilies and took his wand out and pointed it to himself.

A deep breath, a flick of the wand, and a murmur of his words, Harry James Potter spoke his last words. 

“ **_Avada Kedavra._ ** ” 

Harry knew no more, and Koby softly closed his eyes as the magic finally left him. 

**Author's Note:**

> No one really knows where Harry Potter went. He was there one day, and gone the next. A week after, Gringotts had submitted a magical death certificate of one Harry James Potter, and one Edward Remus Lupin was now the Potter Family Head. Teddy, as sad as he was, he was also happy. His Uncle Harry was finally free. That was more than he could’ve wanted. 


End file.
